by Stacy Finz
A family, the Tompkinses, moved toward the door. Mrs. Tompkins was shielding her youngest child’s eyes. Win checked his watch. It was only eight o’clock, yet it felt so much later.
Boden bobbed his head at them. “Sorry, folks. Dinner is on the house.” He scowled at Dale. “Which you’re paying for, asshole.”
Dale was slowly recovering and he’d turned his gaze on Candace. The big ox had tears in his eyes and a total look of desolation on his face. He and Candace had been married close to ten years, Win calculated.
It wasn’t any of Win’s business but he couldn’t help himself. “Maybe you two ought to get counseling.”
“We tried that,” Dale said, and turned his attention to Win. “Are you sleeping with her?”
“No! Dale, we’d barely begun talking when you came in. But, dude, you can’t go beating up every guy she has a conversation with.”
Colt walked in the door with Bobby George, one of his officers, and he didn’t look happy. He was out of uniform so Win assumed he’d gotten called away from home.
He took one look at Win and said, “I should’ve known.”
Win threw up his arms. That was his brothers, always giving him the benefit of doubt.
“Stand over there.” Colt pointed. “Bobby’s going to take your statement.”
Great, he’d been relegated to the corner, which in his mind was equivalent to a time-out.
Bobby did the interview, which took all of eight minutes.
“Am I free to go?” Win asked. He’d lost his appetite for food, beer, and darts and should probably get some ice on his eye, which he could only partially see out of.
“Yup,” Bobby said, and slapped him on the back. The officer had known him since he was a boy.
“Don’t go anywhere yet,” Colt called to him from where he was standing with Boden. Win should’ve known his brother would want to get in his face. Colt probably wanted to lecture him about dealing with drunken, jealous husbands.
He continued his conversation with Boden and took his sweet-ass time moseying over to Win. “Whoa, Dale messed up that pretty face of yours. Want me to take you to urgent care, get that looked at?”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Win had had worse falling off his bike. “I’ll ice it and it’ll be fine.”
Colt poked at the skin around Win’s eye.
“Knock it off, that hurts.” And his ear was still ringing. Dale had a mean right hook.
“You want to come over to our place? I’ve got a pack of peas somewhere in the freezer.”
“Nah, I’m just gonna head home,” Win said. “Did Dale agree to pay for the damage?” Win sure as hell wasn’t. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Come to think of it, Dale should pay for Win’s goddamn dinner.
“Yeah. Boden’s got it worked out with Dale and the other yahoos who got involved. You’re off the hook.”
“Fuck you, Colt. My only crime was taking a fist to the face for Candace.”
Colt locked eyes with him. “That’s what Boden said. Still, stay away from Candace.”
“You need Boden to back up your own brother’s story?” He turned away from Colt and started for the door. “I’m out of here.”
Halfway home, he felt a twinge of guilt. Colt was the police chief and was honorable enough to treat his family members like everyone else. But that warning about staying away from Candace pissed him off. Why was it that Colt just assumed that he was making a play for her? Dale was—or at least had been—his friend and he wasn’t remotely interested in Candace. But everyone always expected him to be on the wrong side of whatever the trouble was.
He started to unlock his front door, decided screw it, and made a straight line for his Jeep instead. It was stupid to drive when he could only see out of one eye but he followed the road to Hilde Wallace’s house. He parked behind Darcy’s Volkswagen, took the cobblestone walkway, and rang the bell.
Hilde answered in her nightgown. Ah crap, it was a little late for a house call.
“Oh my.” She put her hand over her mouth. “What happened to you?”
His lips tipped up. “Damsel in distress. Is Darcy here?” He didn’t know why but he wanted her to hear the story from him before it turned into a tall tale about how he’d been fooling around with his friend’s ex-wife.
“Come in. Let me put something on that and you can tell us all about it.”
Darcy came down the stairs, cringed at the sight of him, and suddenly his eye stopped pulsing and his ear stopped ringing and he felt … better. Like salve to a wound.
“White water rafting?”
“Nope. Bar brawl.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She tilted his chin down to get a better look.
“’Fraid not.”
“Wow, that’s some shiner.”
Hilde disappeared and returned with an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel covered in yellow daisies. “Let’s go in the kitchen.”
They followed and Win took a seat at the breakfast bar and applied the pack to his eye. The cold stung and he waited for blessed numbness.
“You think you should have someone look at it?” Darcy sat next to him.
“Nope. The ice is good. Thanks, Mrs. Wallace.”
“You’re welcome, my dear boy.” She got a pie from the refrigerator, cut three generous slices, topped each one with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and passed them out. God, he loved her. “We want details.” Hilde leaned against the counter and dipped her spoon into the pie.
He told them what happened, glossing over Candace’s role in the melee. She could’ve told Dale that there was nothing going on between her and Win but she’d been intentionally nebulous. Win didn’t like being used that way.
“I always adored Dale Kelly,” Hilde said. “He put new hinges on my cabinets when I couldn’t find a handyman to do it and didn’t charge me a dime.” Dale’s parents owned the local hardware store.
“He sounds psycho to me.” Darcy took the ice from Win so he could finish his pie. “If I were that Candace woman I’d get a restraining order.”
“Nah, he’s just going through a hard time … they both are.” Win didn’t know what had happened to their marriage but there was a time when Candace thought Dale hung the moon.
“Did Colt arrest him?” Darcy ate her ice cream but Win noticed she hadn’t touched the pie. And it was freaking delicious, almost as good as Hannah’s late aunt’s pecan pie.
“Nope, but he has to pay Boden for the stuff he broke at Old Glory.” The whole thing had been a shit show.
“Well, I’m going to leave you young people alone,” Hilde said, and stuck her plate in the dishwasher. “I’ll leave the pie out in case you want seconds.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Wallace.” He got up, went around the island, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sorry I came over so late. I sort of lost track of the time.”
“You’re always welcome.” She waved him off and left him alone with Darcy.
“You think she would marry me?”
“Not if she has half a brain.” Darcy played with her pie.
“Give me that.” He took the plate away from her and dug in. “Man, this is good. What kind of berries does she use?”
“Blackberries.” Darcy watched him scrape up the extra filling on the plate. “They’re from her garden.”
He pointed in the direction Hilde had left. “That right there is the next Mrs. Garner.”
Darcy raised her brows. “There are others?”
“My mom, Hannah, Delaney, and pretty soon Deb.”
“Delaney is Scott,” she said dryly.
“You know what I mean.” He finished the pie and put the ice pack back on his eye. Even with half his vision gone, he noted she didn’t have a bra on under her sweats, which reminded him of her breasts. She had really good breasts.
Darcy gave him a long assessment. “No ice at home?” When he didn’t respond because he knew what she was getting at, she said, “Why’d you come over?”
He lifted his sho
ulders. “I wanted you to hear the story from me, not town gossip.”
“Why?”
Jeez, wasn’t it obvious? “Because of the kiss.” He figured that was enough but she wouldn’t let it go.
“And that matters why? As we’ve already noted, kissing is your middle name.”
God, he was so tired of being stereotyped. “I came to tell you that I hadn’t run from your bedroom to Candace’s. That’s all.”
She started to say something and he stopped her. “Leave it alone, Darcy.”
“Fine, but—”
“No more.” He got up and recovered the pie with the plastic wrap Hilde had left on the counter and put it in the fridge. “I mean it, not another word.”
A cell phone charging next to the landline vibrated. Darcy glanced over at it and exhaled.
“That yours?” he asked.
She didn’t say anything and ignored it, which made him curious. He walked over and read the display. Lewis.
“Your ex.” He would’ve arched a brow but his face hurt too much. What the hell was he calling so late for? “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“Nope.” She got to her feet and took over the cleanup. “Sit and ice your eye.”
“How come?”
“Because it’s getting big as a balloon.”
That’s not what he meant but he went to the freezer and found a fresh pack, since the one he had was melting. Hilde certainly came prepared. “How come you don’t want to talk to Lewis?”
She let out another breath. “Because he wants me to do work for him and I don’t want to.”
“So just say no.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Yes, it was. He did it all the time, especially to TJ, who’d work him like a dog if Win allowed it. “Does it have to do with your divorce settlement?” Maybe she owned a share of the company.
“No, but I left him in the lurch when …” She sighed. “Sometimes I have trouble speaking up for myself.”
He laughed. “Could’ve fooled me by the way you were biting my head off over the weekend. Just because you dumped him doesn’t mean you owe him free labor.”
“There you go again, assuming that I dumped him.”
“You did, didn’t you?” He was as certain of it as he was that tomorrow was Tuesday.
She sat at the breakfast bar again. “I was the one to physically leave but he dumped me first.” When he looked confused she shook her head. “The Win Garners of the world would never understand.”
“Then enlighten me.” He moved the ice pack to his ear so he could see her better. “And don’t pigeonhole me, it pisses me off.”
“Okay then, tell me the last time you were dumped.”
He thought about it for a few seconds and she let out a snort.
“See, it’s never happened to you.”
“Bullshit. I’ve been dumped. Of course I have.”
“When and by whom?” She made the give me gesture with her hand.
“Deb. Last winter.”
“That doesn’t count. Deb wasn’t even your girlfriend when she and TJ started dating. In fact, you were engaged to Britney.”
“There you go, Britney dumped me.”
Darcy shook her head. “No, Britney tricked you. You didn’t even want to marry her in the first place.”
Damn right he didn’t. “Well, there have been other women. I just can’t think of them right now.” He pointed at his face. “Not after what I’ve been through.”
She laughed, the sound so sexy that it aroused him.
“I should get going,” he said, hoping she would ask him to stay. But no invitation was forthcoming.
Chapter Twelve
Darcy didn’t see Win on Tuesday, though she thought about him often and even considered stopping by his place on her way home to see how his face was faring. Even puffy and black-and-blue, the man was gorgeous.
The fight at Old Glory was all anyone was talking about. When she went to Tart Me Up to pick up a sandwich for lunch and thank Rachel for providing the fantastic picnic spread for the FlashTag extravaganza, at least four people in line were gossiping about the dustup. One of them was Foster, owner of Sweet Stems flower shop and Deb’s and Hannah’s BFF.
“What’s the mood like at GA?” he asked, making Saturday’s shenanigans seem more dramatic than the way Win had described it.
“Quiet,” she said, not wanting to get sucked in. Despite the fact that she and Win had forged a sort of friendship—the truth was she didn’t know what to call what they had—it probably wasn’t a good idea to engage in spreading information about one of her employers. Although Win wasn’t technically her boss, he did own an equal share of GA.
“Is it true that Win sent Dale to the hospital? Deb’s not picking up her phone.”
From what Darcy had seen last night Win was the one who should’ve gone to the hospital. “Not from what I heard.”
Foster moved closer and whispered, “Who’s your source?”
“Just stuff I overheard at the office. But Deb would know more, or even Hannah.”
The person behind the counter called Foster’s number. Before putting in his order, he said, “See you at book club tomorrow night?”
She didn’t know what he was talking about because as far as she knew she hadn’t been invited to anyone’s book club. But to save them both from embarrassment she nodded.
By midday, she was jonesing for chocolate and ran over to Oh Fudge! The candy shop, an old Victorian storefront, was near the boardwalk on Main Street. In summer, the ornate screen door swung open and closed all day long by customers. Black and white stripes painted the walls and a harlequin pattern in the same color scheme covered the floor. Little lace curtains on the windows fluttered in the breeze. The jewel box of a place reminded Darcy of a dollhouse.
The homemade chocolates, truffles, and fudge were just as pretty. And they were more addictive than heroin. Darcy tried to avoid the place the same way she did all other things that were bad for her but sometimes she needed a fix.
The two customers ahead of her were deep in conversation about the brawl at Old Glory.
“I hear it was over a love triangle,” said a woman who was a dead ringer for Magda in the movie There’s Something About Mary. Tan and leathery.
“The EMTs took one of them away in an ambulance,” her sidekick added, sounding a little too delighted.
Darcy kept a low profile behind the nuts and chews, not wanting to be pulled into the discussion. That was the thing about living in a small town, it was very inclusive.
When her turn came, she got a half pound of fudge and bumped into Hannah on her way back to the office.
“You coming to book club at my house tomorrow?”
“Uh, I didn’t know I was invited.”
“You didn’t get the e-mail? Huh, that’s odd. I sent it to your GA address.”
Hannah had always been friendly to Darcy but this was the first time she’d ever invited her to anything. It made her feel like she belonged. She’d grown up in Reno and even though she’d been in Glory Junction for a year, she still felt like an outsider.
“It might’ve gone to spam.” Or Darcy might’ve missed it; she’d look again.
“Well, anyway, it’s at my house at seven.”
“Uh, okay. But I doubt I’ve read the book.” Her current reading material was How to Get Ahead at Your Job.
Hannah laughed. “No worries, we never get around to talking about it anyway. But in case you’re interested it’s Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime.”
“Should I bring something?” Darcy didn’t even know where Hannah lived but she’d get the address from Josh.
“Just yourself and your appetite. Foster’s making enchiladas.”
“Thanks for the invite,” Darcy said. Nana was always telling her to be more outgoing, so here was her chance.
She brought the chocolate back to GA and left it in the kitchenette to share. While the Garners were fond of their doughnuts, it turned
out chocolate not so much. So she nibbled on it herself, making the afternoon pass much more quickly thanks to her sugar rush. When the big hand landed on six she began to gather up her stuff. A million times during the day, she went back and forth on whether she should stop by Win’s. Half the time she told herself it was the neighborly thing to do—check to make sure he had everything he needed. The rest of the time she reminded herself that Win wasn’t the type to lack for sympathetic company. Besides, she didn’t trust their newfound friendship, or whatever it was. A little voice in her head told her there was something fishy about it. And the last time she ignored her gut, she’d wound up married to Lewis.
She did enjoy Win a hell of a lot more than Lewis, though. She enjoyed their sparring. And she had definitely enjoyed their makeup session. And as perfect as Win was he didn’t seem to judge her for being … a lot less than perfect. Which except for Nana was a first.
She’d made up her mind to make a pit stop at his apartment. Just five minutes, she told herself, and wrapped the leftover fudge in plastic to bring as a get-well offering. Normally, she wouldn’t bring someone used chocolate but Win didn’t strike her as too picky.
Darcy was just preparing to leave when she got a call from Nana, which completely blew up her plans.
*
Darcy’s father was waiting when she got to her grandmother’s cottage. He looked funny on Nana’s chintz couch, his masculine Gary Cooper looks at odds with the tiny cabbage rose fabric and his long legs jammed against the antique coffee table. Both her parents were tall. It was a mystery how she’d topped out at only five-two.
“Hi, Dad.”
Deep in thought, he hadn’t heard her come in and jumped at the sound of her voice. He took her in without saying a word, then patted the spot next to him. “Come sit next to your old man.”
She hesitantly made her way around the sofa, mentally preparing herself for a lecture about Lewis. This has gone on long enough, Darcy. It’s been a year, it’s time to go home to your husband.
It didn’t matter that Lewis was her ex-husband. In her parents’ minds, she was simply on hiatus from her marriage, a short vacation from real life.
She sat, girding herself for the speech that was sure to come. Instead, he took her hand and sandwiched it between his much larger ones. Neither of her parents were particularly demonstrative so even that small gesture of affection surprised her. Darcy’s initial thought was the unthinkable. He’s dying and he’s come to say his final farewell.